


the colors

by dedicaiton (orphan_account)



Category: Heathers (1988), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Based on Heathers, Gen, Makeup, Marvel Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-25 04:13:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22009813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/dedicaiton
Summary: Peter Parker is a greasy little nobody to accidentally stumbles into a school bathroom at the wrong time
Kudos: 4





	the colors

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to just be crack and it turned into something serious.  
> please check the bottom notes!  
> happy reading xox  
> ^forget to mention. tw for puking and weight loss. slight. (just like the movie if you've ever seen it)

Red, Yellow, Green plaid pants skipped along the grass outlining their polished shoes; no scratches or scuffs marking the shine in sight. Their legs smoothed and unwrinkled passed by each other and touched only in whispered kisses. Elegant and delightfully wary of the way they presented themselves, even if it was only to the nearby trees surrounding them.

"I do believe it's your turn, Bruce. Come on already. We don't have time to spare, you know." A smooth, silky voice purred. Red moved aside, brown hair swishing feverishly in the may winds.

"Obviously. I know. Let me shoot." Bruce, or Yellow, swings back his mallet and smacks into his ball with a deafening 'click'! The sound shoots out through the courtyard and Bruce almost squeals in delight when it lands through two of the hoops luckily. Red just scoffs his way and smooths off his shirt, which is crimsonly fitting.

The colors suit them all. They mark them, easily, and make so they're distinguishable in the way they desire. Because, when referring to The Colors, you don't pick them off one by one. It's never Tony, Bruce, and Stephen anymore; such boring names. It's Red, Yellow, and Green.

"Lucky shot I say!" Tony detests and pushes his way through Bruce to get front and center. "Let me have a go, right Stephen?"

Stephen, who is busying himself with a book, To Kill a Mockingbird, snaps out of his trance and nearly drops the paper off his balancing mallet. The man flushes scarlet and runs a stray hand through his hair to steady himself. His other hand rests on page 107, never turning.

"Uh, yes. Take my turn, Tony." Stephen steps to the side and turns his head down to continue reading with much enthusiasm. He nearly misses the way Tony scoffs but lucky notices in time to check whether his answer was in favor. 

Tony rolls his shoulders and squares his stance, grabbing the wood and adjusting himself once more. A secure pull sends Bruce's ball shooting off somewhere near the fountain, but Tony is ahead once more. Stephen makes to groaning but attempts to stop himself when Red pumps a fist through the air.

"That, boys, is how it's done."

-x-

Rushing students crowd the hallways and surround lockers in tight-knit groups, making it almost impossible for Peter to squeeze his way through efficiently. Someone unknown, at one point, grabs his hand and attempts to wheel his weightless body around but Peter shakes it off in time. A quick sigh, maybe a 'jerkoff' is all that's muttered as the boy makes his way upstairs. The trek is long and unrewarding as he meets the booming voice of-

"Welcome to homeroom! I'll be your teacher and you can call me Mr. Summers. I'll be housing you until the first-period bell rings and then you'll go to your actual classes for the year-" A student in the back raises his hand and Scott Summers stops his sentence to answer the question. "Yes, Steve?"

"I'm pretty sure we all know how school works, Scott. It's been... how many years? Cut the shit. I mean honestly." Steve Sweeney has the audacity to laugh next to Bucky Kelly, smiling and giggling like rowdy boys. The girls crowding them giggle along hopelessly and annoyingly, may Peter add.

Mr. Summers visibly fumes but keeps his cool by biting his tongue. He soothes out some wrinkles near his pocket and lets out a deep breath. It's not too long before Scott responds but the class that is already making a fool out of him. What a nice first day starter.

"My name is not Scott, Steve Sweeney. I am your superior and you will address me as one. Now, on to my next point..."

Homeroom drags by thanks to Mr. Summers torturous voice and the ability to ramble about most topics concerning his own life. Which would have been fine if his story wasn't as boring as dirt. At some point, Peter was absolutely sure that some students like Simon Williams mention something that gets the man speaking purposely. Strangling someone like him isn't the answer to annoyance though, and it is only the first day of school. So guess he better get used bullshit again.

The 'period' goes even slower when Steve or Bucky whip their heads around to glance at Peter time and time again. They're not subtle in the slightest either, and it somewhat gives the boy chills. Being the center of attention was never his strong suit. Sure, Steve and Bucky are desperate, capital D, but Peter wasn't even an option. What changed over the summer? Absolutely nothing. And if that was the situation, why did they keep looking back?

-x-

The first day is uneventful and terribly so; but that's a common fact for each and every normal high school in the entire world. Though, apparently, this particular 'fact' does not apply to a certain Peter Parker, who most certainly had a "coming of age" movie type of day.

To add to that fact, his world just got tilted on its axis and was spinning wildly out of control.

When Peter's axis began to tilt, fifth period was ending and lunch was beginning. Thankfully, he had gotten the same lunch period as Ned, who had been his best friend since kindergarten. This eased some of the stress off of the Peter's shoulders as most of his friends (admittedly, he didn't have many) had gotten 7th lunch.

Dashing to the bathroom before entering the cafeteria was a must though because Dumb and Dumber wouldn't keep their eyes to themselves. After every period, its like they would follow him and whisper in hushed tones behind his back. Creepy and most certainly a situation Peter would love to avoid.

Pushing open the door was a like entering another world. The bright lights wouldn't stop reflecting off the cheap mirrors hung over the sink and the floor had a certain shine that wasn't favorable to it. Cleaning and budget cuts be damned, the other-worldly part of this experience was what greeted him on the other side.

Them. In the flesh. Standing there, applying some sort of powder and lipstick to their faces. The Colors. Bruce, Tony, and Stephen. Yellow, Red, and Green. Well no, one of them was missing. It was-

"God! Could you be any louder in there while you puke up your guts?" Tony called, dabbing his plush, red stained lips with a finger. He tapped and Peter fixated on the way the skin bounced back. "Hello? Do you need something or are you going watch me all day?"

Peter snapped out of his trace and ran a curious hand through his wild hair. The curls blossomed underneath his calloused hands and Peter suddenly wished to have more tame hair in front of the men. 

"Ah, sorry. I need to just hide out here for a second. If that's alright? I'm not trying to get-"

"You're fine. Stop talking, I truly don't care. And Bruce! Stop! Please!" Tony hissed and resumed applying rouge. Peter audibly sighed, never one to confront someone of 'higher power', and leaned against the wall. The slight sound of dry heaving within an enclosed space reached the brown haired boy all too soon and the urge to break into that stall filled his chest.

After tossing it up for a minute or two, Peter strode forward and lightly pushed upon the green door, letting the latch fall. The sight of Bruce on the floor was more than pitiful with his hair pushed back slightly and eyes looking rubbed raw. 

"Why're you even doing this?" Peter questioned, twisting around the locking the door behind him. Bruce stared up at Peter with wide eyes that screamed danger and fear. Like a mask being switched, that startle was replaced with annoyance.

"Why're _you_ even in here? Leave right now or I will call Steve. I swear I will and he'll kick your ass within the hour." 

A sigh left Peter's mouth as he crouched down onto Bruce and the toilet's level, staring the other straight in the eyes. The look he was given was almost piercing, but Peter kept his gaze trained on those dark brown pools. Eventually, Bruce gave up.

"I thought it'd make me lose some weight." The confession struck Peter clearly. Bruce was not one to share secrets like this, especially to someone unknown. The Colors kept to themselves; too high up to touch, and that was what made them special. Like some unknown being that was so far above everyone else. "But nothing's happening at all. I just feel sick all the time."

Peter thought the situation over before laying a hand on Bruce's back and smiling sadly. Yellow glanced up at him through saddened eyelashes and grinned back to his best ability. The two shared something, unpassed words, before Red's voice booming once more.

"If you don't get out of that fucking stall right now I swear." 

"If you don't get out of that stall right now, what, Chandler?" A voice questions, sly words testing the Red. 

Peter sneaked a peek through the cracked stall door and spied an unknown teacher with her hands on her hips. The teacher was glancing at Tony and Stephen who stood in place, clearly not surprised or scared in the least. If anything, they continued on as if nothing was out of the ordinary and only stopped once the teacher addressed Red once more.

"So Chandler, Duke, and...?" A slight heaving from Bruce caused the teacher to light up like a light bulb. "McNamara. You do understand the next period has begun, right? And I don't see a hall pass in sight. May as well give you all a weeks detention for your unruly behavior."

The teacher quickly got a notepad and pen out her pocket but Peter was quicker, using his journal and the bathroom stall to steady himself as he forged Mr. Summer's signature. He'd done so countless times before to escape English class or a test he forgot to study for. The situation, in simple terms, was no problem. Saving someone's ass got you major points for escaping danger and the Colors were, most often than not, the danger to watch out for.

"Excuse me! We're out on a hall pass. Uh. Ma'am." Peter replied almost confidently, stepping out of the stall and handing the teacher the forged signature. They snatched it from his hands quickly and looked over the paper before giving it back begrudgingly. 

"I guess so. Hurry up and get to class. I'm watching you, boys." 

The teacher squinted their eyes in a menacing way before turning on their heel and exiting the bathroom. Peter let out the biggest breath he didn't know he was holding and held a hand to his chest to calm the nerves racing through his body.

"Who are you?" Tony demanded, walking over to Peter with a painful glare. Red towered over Peter which made the entire situation even worse. Instead of voicing his mild concern for their well being and most about popularity, he stayed silent. "Is this one broken? I swear I heard him speak just a second ago.." 

Stephen drawled and tapped his chin in thought before Bruce stepped out of the stall, wiping his mouth on a handkerchief. He threw a secret smile at Peter before clearing his throat and adjusting his countenance.

"He's fine, Red. Let 'em go." Bruce scoffed and headed toward the mirror to fix himself up after the tiny inconvenience but Red stopped him with a strong hand. 

"No. I don't wanna hurt this twerp at all, Yellow. I want to utilize him. Promise radiates from-"

"Peter." The outsider interrupted, feeling even smaller as the moments went on. Green nor Red's stares wouldn't let up and made him feel like prey surrounded like willing predators. 

"He speaks! Peter, I do have a question for you and your excellent marksmanship skills. When did you start doing that thing you're doing? How did you get a note to look as perfect as this one?" With that, Red snatched the signed paper directly out of Peter's grasp and examined the pen marks. He traced the way Peter's hand flew across the paper in under a second; rushed, yet perfect.

"I started forging signatures when I started getting detentions for being late I guess? It's quite simple and I'll be happy to do it for you for a price." Peter's arrogance and cockiness may be substituted for confidence but you'd be completely wrong. The poor boy was shaking in his boots but you had to have a certain type of aura to even think about talking to the Colors. Fail to achieve this and you were dog food.

"What's the price, loser?" Stephen questioned lazily, fixing his eyeliner with intricate, long fingers that caused Peter to shake even more furiously. 

"Let me sit with you at lunch. Get me into your clique-"

Red put his hands up in a silence motion and began to think for a moment before stalking around Peter. Tony checked him out and pointed out all of his flaws mentally.

"Hmm. Now that I'm looking, you're not half bad for a nobody. Great bone structure, nice body, hmm. Some mascara, Yellow? Maybe some lip gloss. Blush would brighten up your cheeks and make you look not as fucking dead. I need a brush, Green! Let's make him beautiful."

"Let's make him beautiful," Yellow agreed, sauntering over and dolling up Peter's eyelashes and cheeks.

"Let's make him beautiful," Green agreed, brushing Peter's hair to help tame his curls just a tad bit.

They worked quickly and did the best they could with a shortage of products and perfections that would make Peter look absolutely stunning. They fixed everything about him; his hair, his nails, his lips, his face. Everything that could likely be changed was done there and then. When Peter looked in the mirror, he felt something stir deep in his belly at his own reflection.

"Beautiful." Red decided.

"Beautiful." Peter repeated.

**Author's Note:**

> i don't know if i should keep this as a one shot or continue it?  
> thank you for reading!


End file.
